


On Writing Letters

by sheepsleet



Category: Pride and Prejudice - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I DEMAND MORE MINOR CHARACTERS, I repeat, also why isn't there more hill, anyway so now i know more than i ever thought i needed to know about random things, because i wrote fanfiction for a grade, college is great, hill is such a gossip, i wrote this for a grade, it's the only way she could survive being mrs. bennet's servant, jane austen's voice is hard to emulate, so fun fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepsleet/pseuds/sheepsleet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Hill is a gossipy busybody who fills this void by stealing and reading discarded letters from the Bennets</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Writing Letters

Mrs. Hill, often referred to as simply “Hill” by her employers, had a terrible habit of “recycling” her employers’ discarded letters. Usually nothing more than a scratch sheet, a collection of ink blots interspersed by words, or perhaps even an unwanted bit of correspondence from a disliked family member, these letters often times found themselves secreted into pockets or tucked into the secure folds of her apron.

Hill mostly found letters from Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia. Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s letters tended to be gay and short, written and sent to Miss Charlotte Lucas and leaving Hill with Miss Lucas’ replies and, on rare occasions, Miss Bennet’s own ruined, barely legible drafts. Miss Lydia’s letters were often found balled up somewhere or carelessly tossed aside.

Shortly after the Bingleys came to Netherfield Park, there was an increase in the amount of letters Hill found to toss or “recycle.” The ones from Miss Bennet were such a bore, often times reading, _“ ~~My Dear Sir,~~ ~~Dearest Mr. Bingley,~~ ~~Sir~~ ” _and ending in an unseemly ink blot from where the writer let her pen rest for too long. Because these letters were never written nor intended to be sent out, Hill was able to tuck them away for her youngest to scribble on with a bit of charcoal saved from the woodstove. He was absolutely awful about learning his letters, but he did so enjoy being able to draw. Miss Lydia’s letters were so much more entertaining, though they were also never sent. They ran somewhat along the lines of:

_“Dearest Miss Bingley,_

_I am sure that you and I are to see much more of each other, and what a laugh that shall be! Our siblings are becoming ever closer, so you absolutely must endeavor to host more balls at Netherfield Park. I should never be so happy than if you did, and if you were to invite my dear Mr. Denny and his friends, the ball shall be such a resounding success! The soldiers will be ever so grateful and perhaps they might even pay you attention. I can hardly keep myself from laughing at the moment, for how can anyone not realize what is occurring between—no, I must not send this and instead keep this mum, so that I might see your face when—well, you’ll see! And what great fun that shall be!_

_Affectionately,_

_Lydia Bennet.”_

Even rarer still were letters from Miss Mary Bennet. Those, Hill found with some surprise, were often stuffed in the books of Fordyce’s sermons Miss Mary had been making extracts of or shuffled in with her sheet music. Even so, because of their secretive nature, Hill could only wait until Miss Mary decided to sort through her miscellaneous papers and decide which ones to keep. In the interim, there appeared several more letters of interest, including one from Miss Elizabeth to one Mr. Darcy:

_“To Mr. Darcy,_

_In the words of the great poet himself, shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more stuffy and less sufferable._

_Your humble servant,_

_Elizabeth Bennet.”_

Even Mr. Hill, after a long day of being the Lucas family butler, found Miss Elizabeth’s wit amusing, though he did remind Mrs. Hill of the severe repercussions from her having possession of these letters. Mrs. Hill hushed her husband and claimed her snooping was all in good fun, adding that she was always careful in indulging her habit almost as an afterthought.

It took some months, but shortly after Mrs. Wickham returned to Longbourn with her husband in tow, Miss Mary finally relinquished her letters to the bin. The most recent letter of the stack read:

_“My Dear Sir,_

_I once remarked to my sisters, long before our acquaintance, that pride is a very common failing. It is, I was convinced and still remain as such, a common ailment to which human nature is particularly prone. I believed that there were very few people who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us. I believed myself immune to them both._

_It is common knowledge that I am not pretty, nor can I be vain. My mother can assure you of my plainness, though I am sure a man such as yourself knew that from a single glance. Neither am I the sharpest of mind among my sisters, for that honor goes to ~~Lizzie~~ Elizabeth, which my father can attest. And yet, dear sir, I had hoped that you would turn your eye past that to me. I had prayed that word would reach you of how I am the most accomplished girl in the neighborhood, which Miss Bingley herself has heard and witnessed. And there, my damnable pride strikes. I do not resent your chusing of Miss Lucas for your bride, for I see where I have erred. I had hoped that your wish to keep the wealth of my father within the family would have turned you to me, but instead you sought my sister and, on her revulsion for your offer, her friend. Such desires are unseemly and you, sir, could see into the heart of my interest and deemed it unworthy. I wish upon you and Mrs. Collins a happy marriage._

_This shall be my final letter to you, dear sir, the collection of which I shall never send and I shall forever hope never reaches you. For this final message, I find I might be bold. My dear Mr. William ~~Collins~~ , I have nursed for you an affection rooted in material desires. It is not the love Lydia holds for any officer who looks when she passes, nor even the quiet devotion I see Jane directs towards Mr. Bingley. Instead, I hold for you the highest respect and a desire that your Lady Catherine might condescend you and your lifestyle for an eternity, for I can imagine no greater pleasure for you._

_Yours for ever, though you will never be mine,_

_Mary Bennet.”_

Hill, for the first time since she began her recycling hobby years before, felt in her heart a shame like none other. She picked up the stack of letters Miss Mary left in the wastebasket and, grateful for the cold weather necessitating a fire, set them all to burn. She did not think of her youngest desiring paper to scratch on with a bit of charcoal and instead reflected on how utterly withdrawn Miss Mary had seemed these last few months.

Let the past be the past, she decided, and let no one think of what might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! It was a lot of fun to write and, I hope, equally as fun for you to read! It was also my first real foray in trying to write in Jane Austen's voice.


End file.
